


at the end of the day

by sky_reid



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Banter, Biting, Cunnilingus, F/F, Face-Sitting, Gender or Sex Swap, Girl Direction, Hair-pulling, Love Bites, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Oh, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, Squirting, Vaginal Fingering, Wet & Messy, anyway, harry's mildly possessive, i say mildly but i mean quite possessive, like very wet and very messy, mild overstim, oh and mentions of, should be it, technically only louis and harry are cis girls, zayn is referred to as 'he' and the rest aren't even mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-25 21:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6210529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_reid/pseuds/sky_reid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>if harry dies with her head between louis' legs, she'll die a happy woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	at the end of the day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grace_Caroline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grace_Caroline/gifts).



> a belated happy international women's day? and a happy birthday to one v special lady in my life (that's you grace in case you missed it)
> 
> this is not _the_ cis girls larry fic i promised, this just _a_ cis girls larry fic but have it all the same

She licks the taste of her own lipstick from Louis' lips. It's sticky and waxy and tastes a bit shit honestly, but she likes it because Louis is not a makeup kind of girl and she only tastes of lipstick when she's been snogging Harry; it's like a brand that Harry leaves on her, pink and red warpaint to remind her who Louis belongs to. She sucks Louis' bottom lip into her mouth and licks it clean until the only thing she can taste is the faint sweetness of the weed that's still making them both a bit giggly and fuzzy. Louis' hands under her tee squeeze her waist, fingers fitting perfectly into the dips of her ribs and thumbs tracing the curves of her breasts. She tightens her hold on the back of Louis' neck and kisses her properly, licks into her mouth; she can feel the moan that rumbles in Louis' chest spread through her own where her tits are pressed against Louis'. She squeezes Louis' hips with her thighs, grinds down in the rhythm of the music still playing in the other room. The door is not locked; it's not the first time they've sneaked out of a party to make out in somebody else's bed and it's not like Harry was in any way subtle when she dragged Louis off and it's not like there's anyone out there who doesn't know what they're doing and would interrupt them. But they _could_. It might be a problem if only it weren't at least half the reason Harry's so wet she can feel her knickers sticking to her. It might be a problem if she weren't actually kind of hoping for it.

Louis tugs on her lip with her teeth as she pulls away. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are a bit glassy and wisps of hair have fallen out of her ponytail to frame her face. The bright red lipstick Harry took such care in applying earlier is smeared all over her mouth. Harry runs a thumb over her bottom lip roughly, gathering spit and makeup both and swiping it out over Louis' cheek; she does like to make a mess, after all. She pokes at the corner of Louis' lips, lifts it up in a lopsided smile before pushing her thumb into Louis' mouth. Louis looks up at her as she licks it clean, then sucks on it, slurping noisily. Harry shifts a little on her lap, rubs herself against one of Louis' strong thighs. She hopes she's leaving a stain.

She pulls her thumb out of Louis' mouth and leans down for another kiss, this one wet and a bit uncoordinated. Blindly, she feels for the hairband holding Louis' hair back and pulls it out. She knows she's yanked a few strands out with it when Louis gasps into her mouth. She also knows Louis likes it because she bucks up, her leg pressing harder against Harry's cunt.

"Shit," Harry whispers. She's being a tease tonight, wore her favourite crop top so only a sliver of skin would show, a peek of the butterfly tattooed on her belly, between it and the short high-waisted skirt that she's sure has ridden up or billowed out enough times to give the whole crowd a view of the lacy garters keeping her stockings up. The fact that she's not wearing a bra is probably not helping either, nor did the heels that she'd lost on her way to the bed and will probably trip over in the morning. It was a good plan, had Louis' eyes and hands on her all night. The only thing she forgot to take into account was how much the whole setup would rile  _her_ up as well.

She breaks the kiss and leans back enough to get her top off and throw it somewhere behind her. Louis' hands are one her tits before she's even settled back down, cupping and squeezing gently. She sighs and lets her head fall back; her arms drape over Louis' shoulders naturally, fingers tangling in her hair and messing up the loose waves. When Louis brings her tits together and buries her face in them, Harry almost expects to be motorboated. From how Louis grins, she guesses they're thinking the same thing.

Louis licks up between her breasts, places a kiss under each of the swallows inked under her collarbones. She cups her tits and brings them up so she can latch onto her nipples easily. She sucks on one, brushes her thumb over the other. Harry arches her back, shoving her breasts into Louis' face. She tugs on Louis' hair, making her bite down. The sharp pain sends a thrill of arousal down her spine. She rocks down, the pressure of Louis' thigh on her cunt not really enough to make her feel less desperate. She looks to where she has Louis' face buried in her breasts, to how the soft flesh yields and bulges in Louis' fingers. She's always loved having her tits played with, always had sensitive nipples and Louis is rather fond of them too; in fact, she's wanted them pierced for ages now, ever since Louis got one of hers done way back when they first started dating and the only reason she hasn't done it yet is that neither of them wants to stop playing with them long enough for the piercings to heal properly. She pulls Louis' head back, watches, a bit mesmerised, how a string of spit stretches between her hardened nipple and Louis' lips. There's a broken ring of light red where Louis' lips touched her.

She shoves Louis backwards so she sprawls out on her back on the bed, leans over her to kiss her; her hair falls around her face like a curtain until Louis gathers it up gently and holds it loosely at the back of her neck. "Wanna eat you out," she mumbles between kisses, rocking her hips and rubbing herself over Louis' belly. She holds herself up on one arm, gets her free hand between them to grab at one of Louis' tits. "Wanna taste you, want you to get my whole face messy. Wanna make you come so hard they hear you over the music outside."

Louis runs her hands all the way down her back to her arse and thighs and back up under her skirt, leaving burning scratches behind. "That'd be some addition to Zayn's tracklist," she pants.

"Good," Harry says. "Zayn's parties are boring anyway."

Louis snorts. "Zayn's parties are fine, love, you're just horny all the time."

"Well, then it's a good thing Zayn doesn't mind us sneaking off to shag in his bed, right?"

" _Doesn't mind_ might be a bit of an overstatement," Louis says, fingers sinking into the meat of Harry's arse. She traces her thumbs under the lacy trim of Harry's knickers. "But really, who could say no to _you_?"

Harry grins and kisses her again, dirty and wet and open, rolls her hips in the rhythm of the bass-heavy remixes Zayn's got playing on the other side of the door. The leather of Louis' belt digs into her thighs and the metal buckle presses against her cunt uncomfortably hard, but she doesn't stop, too turned on by how Louis' breath hitches every time she grinds down. The repetitive movement is intoxicating, up and down, pressure and release, the softness of Louis' tongue and the sharp nip of her teeth; it doesn't take much for Harry to get lost in it, especially not when her thoughts are still sluggish from the pot. The quick smack of Louis' hand against her bottom catches her completely off-guard and she moans loudly, burying her face in the crook of Louis' neck and arching her back so her arse is practically on display.

"Thought you were gonna eat me out," Louis reminds, pinching the back of Harry's thigh right below where her skin smarts a little. The fingers of her other hand trail down between Harry's cheeks to where Harry knows her knickers are already soaked.

Her mouth waters. She licks her lips. "Yeah, fuck, yeah," she agrees. She hooks her fingers in the neckline of Louis' tee and pulls it down so Louis' collarbones are exposed. She kisses at the dip of her throat, licks up the sweat that's pooling there. There's a clear outline of Harry's teeth above one of the swirling lines of Louis' tattoo. Harry lifts her hand up to press her thumb into it. The colour of her nailpolish almost matches the angry red of the mark. She kneels up, Louis' hands sliding down her thighs when she moves; Zayn's bed is softer than theirs and she overbalances a bit, ends up having to plant her arse firmly in Louis' lap lest she fall.

Louis bursts out laughing. "Smooth, Styles, very smooth."

"Shut up," Harry replies, swatting at Louis' arm though she can't help smiling when she sees Louis bite her lip to try to contain the fond expression on her face. There's still a line of red lipstick from the corner of her lips down her cheek. Harry traces it lightly with her thumb, smearing it but not wiping it off. She waits until Louis looks up and meets her eyes to roll her hips deliberately slowly; she brings her hands up to her chest, squeezes her own tits and pinches her nipples, watching how Louis' lips part on a sigh at the image. She smirks and raises her eyebrows.

Louis shakes her head. "Alright, alright. You've made your point, you've got some moves." She runs her hands up Harry's legs, lifting her skirt up, and presses her thumbs high up to the insides of her thighs. Harry grins and inches forward until the seam of Louis' jeans presses against her clit. She wiggles around a bit, whimpering at the shifting pressure. Louis' fingers sink into her thighs and she bucks her hips up. " _Fuck_ ," she whispers.

"Maybe some other time," Harry promises. She pushes Louis' tee up slowly, watches closely as more skin is revealed, Louis' soft belly and wide hips and narrow waist. Her breathing gets shallower.

She pauses when the hemline reaches the slight swell of Louis' tits; she lets the cotton catch on Louis' hard nipples just to hear her gasp. When she's sprawled out on her back like this, Louis' chest looks almost flat. Harry bunches the shirt up under her armpits and holds onto her shoulders as she leans down and sucks a nipple into her mouth, the one with the metal barbel through it, the one that always makes Louis squirm. She seals her lips around it and sucks, slurping noisily when her mouth waters from the way Louis moans. The metal clicks against her teeth when she bites down gently, just enough to make Louis feel it. She flicks her tongue over the nub caught between her teeth. Louis' nails sink into the soft skin of her upper thighs as she moans and arches her back. Harry looks up before she moves her jaw left and right a bit, nudges the piercing with her tongue so it shifts; Louis throws her head back so the only thing Harry can see is the long line of her throat and the point of her chin. She bites down harder until Louis whines and presses on her thighs as if to push her away. Her hair sticks to her temples where it falls over her shoulders; she can feel the prickle of sweat on her hairline and the back of her neck, under and between her breasts, low in the dimples of her back. She's starting to feel too warm for clothes, but she doesn't want to waste time on taking them off when she can curl her fingers around Louis' side and pinch her other nipple instead.

"Bloody hell, H," Louis grits out. She scratches down Harry's thighs, pushing her stockings to just above her knees uncaringly. Her voice is strained and rough, the way it always gets when she's been smoking. Or when Harry's made her come so many times she can't close her legs anymore. Either way, it's the kind of tone Harry associates with good things. She lifts off of Louis' chest with a wet pop and grins.

"Needy," she teases.

Louis looks up at her, cheeks flushed and lips bitten. The trace of Harry's lipstick is still there. "Tease," she replies. "You've been edging me all night, been wet since you made me watch you pull those bloody stockings up when it was already too late to slam you against a wall."

Harry opens her mouth to say something in turn, but Louis' thumb flicks over her clit expertly, just enough to send a shiver through her and make the breath she took leave her in a rush. She folds forward until her tits brush over Louis', gasps when that only serves to make her even wetter. "Fuck, okay," she mumbles into her own chest. She holds onto Louis' waist as she manoeuvres herself down onto the floor between Louis' legs. The parquet is hard under her knees and the carpet is thin and scratchy; she has no illusions that her stockings won't tear and her knees won't be red by the time she's done. There's something appealing about the thought that even come morning there'll be no mistaking what she was doing.

She runs her hands down Louis' sides to her hips, tickles over the soft swell of her belly just above the waistband of her jeans. Louis sits up, leaning on her elbows. Her tee droops down, covering most of her chest until only the bottoms of her breasts are exposed; the rolls of her belly shine with a thin layer of sweat. She looks better than any fantasy Harry's ever had and she's right there, complete with all the little imperfections that make her real, the way one of her nipples sits lower than the other, the few long hairs under her arm that she always misses when shaving, the tiny red zit on her forehead. Harry's suddenly overwhelmed with how much she really loves her. She has a strong urge to climb back up on the bed and kiss her until neither of them can breathe. Instead she just leans in and brushes her lips above her belly button.

Louis' fingers comb through her hair and tuck a few curls behind her ear. "Love you," she says.

Harry buries her grin in Louis' tummy. "Love you more," she replies. She doesn't need to see Louis' face to know she's rolling her eyes.

She undoes Louis' belt and unbuttons her jeans blindly before dragging the zip down with her teeth, Louis' hand still resting on her cheek. She pulls Louis' skinnies down and off, takes her Vans with them. As ever, Louis is not wearing socks; she wiggles her toes as soon as her little feet are free. Harry's long wanted to find it disgusting, but somehow it always ends up being adorable instead.

She scrunches up her nose in an exaggerated pout. "Your feet stink," she says, ghosting the tips of her fingers over Louis' instep to watch her entire body twitch to get away.

"You stink," Louis replies with a giggle. She yanks her foot out of Harry's hands and pokes at Harry's tummy with her big toe.

"Mature."

Louis' entire face lights up. "Eat me." Harry manages to stare at her sternly for a few seconds before they both burst out laughing, Harry with her face pressed against Louis' inner thigh and Louis falling on her back and resting her hands on her shaking belly. "Oh, I've been spending too much time with you," Louis tells the ceiling.

Harry nuzzles into her thigh and bites it gently. "No such thing."

Louis pets the top of her head. Her fingers tangle in the curls and she leaves them there. "Any way I can blame that on still being high then?"

"Just admit it: your jokes are as bad as mine."

"Never."

Harry bites at her thigh harder, worries the skin between her teeth and sucks a bruise to the surface. She inches forward until her chest brushes over the side of the bed, sighing in relief at the brief respite her knees get when she moves. She nibbles her way up Louis' leg, sharp little nips of her teeth and quick licks with the tip of her tongue all the way to the crease of Louis' thigh where she tucks her nose in and breathes deeply. The smell of Louis' arousal is strong up close like this and it makes Harry's belly twist pleasantly. Her mouth waters. She wraps her fingers around Louis' ankles and traces the protruding knobs of them with her thumbs. Louis hasn't shaved in a few days and the short hairs prickle Harry's hands when she runs them up her calves and behind her knees. She lifts Louis' legs up and and plants her feet on her own shoulders. The music sounds quieter now, though whether that's because somebody turned it down or because she's got Louis' thighs around head, Harry doesn't know. She squeezes her hands in between Louis and the bed, grabs at her arse and pulls her down to the edge. Louis tugs on her hair a little, probably doesn't even intend to; it's not very hard, but it's enough to send an electrifying shiver down Harry's spine. She lifts her head up and kisses right below the silky bow at the centre of Louis' waistband. The knickers are hers, soft and a little worn; they're a faded pink with small grey polka dots that used to be black. The colour is darker down the middle where Louis' got them wet.

Harry runs her thumbs over the edges of the stain. "Were you gonna wash these before giving them back?" she asks, nosing up the wet cotton and sniffing at it.

"Wasn't gonna give them back at all," Louis admits. "I like them. A bit tight, but they're definitely my colour, don't you think?" Harry groans and buries her face in Louis cunt; she spreads her legs a little on instinct, overwhelmed at the smell, the heat, the wetness that touches her skin. She pulls the cotton into her mouth and sucks on it. Just the faintest taste of Louis that she gets is enough to make her roll her hips forward as if she can rub off on something. "Would've sent you a text that I was wearing your underwear. I know how much you like when I wear your clothes," Louis says. She tugs on Harry's hair a little. "And your lipstick. And your bruises. And your bites. When I  _look_ yours."

Harry hooks her fingers in the knickers and pulls them halfway down Louis' thighs. She'd rip them off just to save time if they hadn't looked so good on Louis; instead she lets Louis kick them all the way off, throw them somewhere across the room. She puts her hands on Louis' thighs, spreads them open so she can get her head between them. "Pretty," she says, letting her breath ghost over Louis' cunt and feeling the muscles under her hands twitch.

"You say that all the time," Louis replies, but she arches her back and lifts her hips up closer to Harry's face. She's pink and glistening wet, the trimmed hair of her bush darkened and sticky with her slick. Harry pushes her back down on the bed and spreads her with her thumbs before licking all the way up her slit, stopping short of her clit. The salty taste on her tongue has her moaning so loudly she drowns out Louis' own reaction. She licks a broad stripe down and back up, circles Louis' clit without really touching it. The hair prickles her tongue, making her smile. She nuzzles into Louis' bush and kisses up her belly, leaving a wet trail behind. It feels good to kneel up, if even for a little while. She rests her forehead on Louis' tummy and runs one hand up her side. When she reaches Louis' tits she finds Louis' hand already there, her fingers pinching and twisting her pierced nipple. She moves her hand to the other side.

She looks up; Louis' back is arched, her head thrown back and her hair spread out around her face like a halo. She's biting her lip and though Harry can't see, she'd bet that her eyes are shut tightly, her brows probably drawn together. Her skin is shiny and damp, sweat staining the shirt under her arms. Harry runs two of her fingers blindly up between Louis' lips, coating them in wetness. She presses them either side of Louis' clit rhythmically, teasing without touching yet. Louis grunts and bucks her hips up. Her grip on Harry's hair tightens and she scratches at Harry's scalp when she pulls it. She guides Harry's face lower, whining when Harry uses the opportunity to bite low on her belly and suck a mark into the skin.

"You're such a fucking tease," she complains, digging her toes into Harry's back. "I could've made myself come three times by now."

Harry grins up at her and brings her fingers down to circle her hole. "But I do it so much better," she replies. She feels Louis clenching on nothing under her hand when she twists her fingers around. She sits back down on her feet, squirms around until she finds a position that's comfortable. Her muscles are burning and her knees hurt; she likes that it's a reminder of how Louis' pleasure matters more than her comfort. She's so wet she can feel it where her knickers touch her calves. A few droplets of sweat trickle down her sides.

She puts her hand on Louis' belly, watches it rise and fall quickly with her shallow breaths. There's still spit smeared over her teeth marks there. Her eyes follow the darkening trail of hair down to the short wiry curls surrounding the pink folds. She licks her lips as she watches her middle finger slip easily inside Louis, all the way in until the wide band of her ring presses against the soft, slick flesh. Louis grunts and pushes back, lets her legs fall open. She tightens up around Harry's finger; when she relaxes Harry gets to watch more wetness seep out of her and stain the silver.

Without Louis' thighs bracketing her head, Harry can focus on the music still playing on the other side of the door. She pulls her finger out and pushes it back inside, curling it up. She can feel Louis' breathing speed up as she starts fucking her in the rhythm of the song. She almost wants to tuck under finger inside, stretch Louis out a little, but she looks so good when she's open and loose like this, when she has to clench to make it feel better. Harry keeps her pressed down into the bed, only lets her rock into it a little. She teases her with another finger, tucks it in for a stroke, then takes it out just for how it makes Louis tighten up and whine in frustration. By the time the song changes to something a bit slower, she already already has Louis' wetness smeared over her palm. She pulls her finger out, runs it up and down between the slick folds, keeping up with the rhythm of the music. Louis whines and pulls on her hair, making her eyes flutter shut briefly at the dull ache that sends a wave of heat through her body. She brings her legs together, squeezes her thighs tightly. If she really wanted to she could get a hand down on herself, touch herself through her soaked knickers; she'd come before the next track came on. But waiting is part of the pleasure.

She brings her fingers down, teases them around Louis' opening in warning before pushing inside. She watches Louis stretch around them easily; one of Louis' legs falls off her shoulder and she lifts it up onto the bed so she can keep looking. She kneels up, leans on Louis' thigh for better leverage as she starts fingering her in earnest, pulling her fingers out quickly and roughly shoving them back inside. Her other fingers curl into a loose fist, her knuckles grazing just underneath Louis' clit on every push in. She looks up, finds Louis kneading at the softness of her own breast, the metal barbels shining between her fingers and her skin glistening with sweat. Her head is thrown back, throat bobbing with the breaths she gulps down. High-pitched whimpers spill out of her mouth and her cunt is starting to make that obscenely wet sound that always has Harry's heart racing. Harry squeezes her thigh hard enough that she thinks she might leave bruises; she looks back down to watch how Louis opens around her fingers when she scissors them. A thick string of sticky slick stretches between them. She shoves her fingers all the way inside, curls them up and runs them over Louis' spot in quick circles. Louis whines and rolls her hips as if trying to follow the movement of Harry's fingers

"H," she whispers, clenching down and whimpering when Harry just presses harder. Harry grins to herself and keeps going. She can feel Louis' wetness starting to run down her hand and pool in the cup of her palm; she leans down to lick it off. She moans at the taste, follows the trail of slickness to where her ring is now sticky and warm and all the way up until she flicks the tip of her tongue over Louis' clit. Louis curses and yanks on her hair, tries to hold her head down when she moves away again. For now, Harry doesn't let her. She presses a gentle kiss to Louis' clit and fucks her fingers inside roughly a few more times before lifting up so she can watch them as she pulls them out. She sees Louis' cunt twitch when they slide out as if trying to keep something inside; some wetness leaks out without Harry's fingers to keep it inside or her palm to gather it; the sheets underneath stain a darker blue. Harry giggles. Zayn is going to kill them and she could not care less.

She catches Louis' eye before lifting her fingers up to her mouth and easing them past her lips; she sucks on them and slurps loudly, lets her tongue peek out when she licks them clean. She's only half playing it up for Louis when her eyes flutter closed and she makes a quiet purring sound at the taste. She takes her fingers out, tugs on her bottom lip when she drags them down her chin and neck and between her tits. The spit feels cool on her sweaty skin, makes her nipples perk up even more. She puts her hands on the backs of Louis' thighs and lifts them up, spreads them open so she's on display. There's wetness running down between her arsecheeks almost all the way to her hole. Harry licks it off.

Louis tugs on her hair. "Harry, fuck," she grits out, voice breaking in the middle of the words. She runs her hand down her belly, presses the heel of her palm over her pubic bone. The chipped black varnish on her nails is a nice contrast to the warm pink of her cunt when she gets her fingers on herself. She dips them inside before spreading herself. She scratches at at Harry's scalp gently. "Eat me out, baby." Harry licks her lips; she's practically drooling at the sight of Louis holding herself open for her.

She leans in, pauses before she touches. Her lips part on a deep breath; she feels spit pooling under her tongue, spilling over and dribbling out to add to the mess. She presses her tongue over Louis' hole and moves it around slowly. She chokes out a deep, rumbling sound that makes Louis' cunt twitch. Her stockings twist around her legs when she spreads them open, but she doesn't have it in her to care about that right now; she's so wet she knows she'd be dripping over the floor if she weren't wearing knickers and she's only just started. Above her, Louis sighs and relaxes into the bed. Her thighs are starting to shake under Harry's hands.

Harry runs the flat of her tongue all the way up to Louis' clit and over it, then back down. She likes the wet, smacking sound it makes, keeps doing it until Louis starts whining thinly and tugging on her hair. She runs the tip of her tongue around Louis' hole, licks up and down her folds again before dipping inside her a few times. Louis' thighs jump under her hands. "Yeah, fuck," she moans. She rolls her hips up, trying to take more in, but Harry holds her down, pushes her legs further up. She wiggles her tongue left and right quickly when she licks up, spreading spit and slick all the way to Louis' clit; she only flicks over it briefly, doesn't stay long enough to do more then make Louis' entire body jolt. There's wetness smeared over her chin and nose, a bit sticking to her cheeks as well and she rubs her face into Louis' cunt to get more of it. She licks her way back down, gathers the slick that's seeped out onto her tongue. She keeps her mouth on Louis while she swallows as if in some sort of a perverted kiss. She'd be happy to spend hours like this, trying to get Louis clean and making her even messier instead, never even touching herself. She rolls her hips, almost trying to rub herself on the carpet when she licks into Louis; she's careful to keep her lips over her teeth as she starts fucking her tongue in and out. Louis' fingers nudge her cheeks like she forgot to hold herself open for a second.

She tries to close her legs, tries to ride Harry's face, tries to stay relaxed; Harry can feel it in the twitch of muscle in her thighs, the tug on her hair, the clench of Louis' cunt around her tongue. She digs her fingers into Louis' thighs and holds her still. Spit is gathering in the corners of her mouth, making everything even wetter; Harry doesn't bother taking a break to wipe it off even when it starts running down her chin. She's hardly even breathing, shallow panting the only thing she can manage with her head buried in Louis' cunt, her hair in her face and her heart beating fast. Sweat is running down her back, soaked up by the waistband of her skirt. She fucks her tongue into Louis faster, digs her nails into Louis' thighs.

"Yeah, H, _ah shit_ , that's good," Louis moans, pulling on her hair and tightening on Harry's tongue. She nudges Harry's nose when she runs her fingers over herself, getting them wet. Harry can feel the ripple of it when she starts touching herself, quick rough left-and-right rubs she always likes at the end. She lifts her head and nips at the back of Louis' hand before she can really get into it.

"Mine," she growls.

"Oh fuck," Louis grunts. She moves her hand out of the way, grabs her own breast and starts playing with her piercing. Her fingers smear slick over her nipple.

Harry keeps watching as she licks a broad stripe up and down over Louis' clit; she doesn't bother trying to stop herself from drooling too much, gets Louis nice and wet. The trimmed hair feels rough on her tongue. She rolls her hips, trying to relieve at least some of the pressure building between her legs. Louis starts whimpering as soon as Harry zeroes in on her clit, licks quickly up and down over it, stiffening her tongue to add some pressure. She's not trying to hold Louis down anymore, isn't sure she could even if she wanted to with how much Louis is squirming. Besides, it's more fun like this. She closes her lips around Louis and sucks. Louis yanks on her hair and starts rocking into her mouth. She's whining near constantly now, her thighs shaking under Harry's hands and her toes curling in the periphery of Harry's vision. Harry can feel her own cunt pulsing in the rhythm of the rolls of Louis' hips as if in sympathy.

"Oh, oh,  _oh, oh fuck_ ," Louis moans, pushing Harry's head down hard and crying out as she comes. She arches her back, tensing up for a few seconds before she melts into the bed and starts shaking. Harry closes her eyes.

It's hard to breathe when Louis holds her down like this but she suckles on her clit through it; she eases up gradually, slowly goes back to tonguing over her. She doesn't move away even when Louis lets go of her head and takes her hand out of her hair, keeps licking over her clit gently. She can't hear any music or voices anymore, only Louis.

"H, H,  _oh_ , Harry," Louis chants; she sounds breathless and weak and her legs won't stop shaking and Harry moans instead of her. She lets go of Louis' thighs, grabs her own tits instead and squeezes roughly, pinches her nipples and twists them to opposite sides, the pain shooting through her making her belly swirl and her cunt pulse. She closes her legs and squeezes them together; the relief of moving adding to the pleasure.

She licks over Louis' clit faster, alternates between quick touches with the tip of her tongue and hard sucks. Louis is making these sounds that are half-sobs, half-moans, rocking into Harry's mouth and away from it like she can't quite decide what she wants to do, but she's not saying anything and she doesn't push Harry away, so Harry keeps going. On the rare occasions when Louis does want to keep going after she's come, it's easier to get her there the second time around. Which is good, because Harry is getting impatient. She grinds down into her own legs, not really achieving anything. She's keeping her eyes closed, doesn't want to add the image of Louis right now to all the things making her feel like she's burning up; the only thing she has to go by is sound. When she hears Louis choke on a whimper before twisting almost entirely away from her mouth, she knows she's made her come again. She sighs happily, opens her mouth wide so she can take deeper breaths while she runs her tongue over Louis' clit lightly, not wanting to make it too much while still prolonging her orgasm. She can feel sweat running down her temples, her hair sticking to it, and spit dribbling out of her mouth and down over Louis and probably the bed. She squeezes her thighs closer again, desperate for something to touch her.

She's about to pull back when Louis' legs drape over her shoulders and keep her close. She looks up, blinking in confusion. Louis looks just as ruined as she expected, flushed all the way down to her belly and with drops of sweat running down the curves of her body. She has an arm thrown over her face, a hand fisted in the sheets and she's breathing fast; her bottom lip is bitten almost raw and shiny with spit. Harry runs the flat of her tongue up over her again before lifting her head. She has to clear her throat before she can speak. "Lou?" she asks, shocked at how deep her voice is when it comes out. Louis just grunts and clamps her thighs shut around her head. She lifts her hips up off the bed, rubs herself over Harry's mouth until Harry holds her still by the hips and licks over her all the way from her arse to her clit. She's not sure what Louis wants, so she gets her mouth around her clit again, suckling lightly. Louis moans brokenly. She starts shaking almost immediately, doesn't last longer than a few seconds before she's arching off the bed silently, riding Harry's face through her third orgasm, her thighs tight around Harry's head. Harry's only seen her like this a few times before and she's wondering now how she survived those nights because she feels like she might burst into flames from how much she  _needs_ if she doesn't do something about it soon. She feels a light stream of wetness hit her chin and curses straight into Louis' cunt. It only sets her off more; the next time she gushes over Harry's chest.

"Bloody  _hell_ ," she whispers as she melts into the bed as if all her muscles suddenly give out. Her legs fall from Harry's shoulders; she doesn't even try to close them. Harry watches her squirt weakly one last time, mostly over the sheets though a few drops land on Harry's skirt. She's honestly shocked she hasn't either come or died yet.

She manages to crawl onto the bed even though her knees are killing her, loses a stocking along the way and unzips her skirt but gives up on taking it off. She's about to sprawl out next to Louis and rub one off while reliving the last (best) two minutes of her life, when Louis stops her before she can lie down, grabs her thigh and squeezes above her knee.

"Come 'ere," she slurs, "sit on my face."

Harry almost wants to faint just hearing how fucked out she sounds, but months of conditioning have her throwing her leg over Louis and straddling her chest without even thinking twice. She lifts up her skirt and inches forward, hips bucking uncontrollably when Louis licks her lips. She positions herself carefully over Louis' face and raises her eyebrows, waiting for Louis' nod before tugging her knickers to the side with her free hand. They're so soaked they drip down her thigh. She doesn't have the time to admire that though, because Louis pulls her down by the hips and licks over her all the way from her hole that feels empty and open and wanting to her throbbing clit. She yelps and sways forward at the sudden burst of pleasure.

Louis doesn't tease her, sinks her teeth into the smooth, shaved skin above her cunt for that sharp sting of pain Harry likes and laps at her clit, quick lashes of the tip of her tongue that make Harry weak. She's still breathing hard, huffs of air that feel cooling on Harry's wet skin. Harry throws her head back, her hair tickling over her back, and moans loudly, too overwhelmed to focus on any sounds that might be coming from the other room and not really caring if anyone hears her anyway. Her knees slip over the sheets and her thighs shake; she's barely holding herself upright, Louis' hands on her arse the only thing keeping her from lowering herself too far and suffocating Louis. She can feel pressure building low in her belly already. She's rocking back and forth without much control, the sounds leaving her mouth as if punched out of her increasingly loud and breathless when Louis keeps tonguing at her no matter how she squirms. Louis finally steadies her by pulling her down; she sucks on her clit, teeth just barely grazing the hood of it and it's all Harry can manage not to actually scream when she comes. She falls forward and catches herself on her arms, moaning through wave after wave of pleasure that Louis' mouth pulls out of her. She's still not done when Louis guides her lower so she can breathe; she almost comes again when she brushes over the rough material of Louis' bunched up tee and ends up riding out the aftershocks by rubbing her cunt over Louis' tits, the wet cotton of her knickers that have fallen back into place the only thing between her overly sensitive clit and Louis' hard nipple that she keeps brushing it over.

It takes her a long time to still and even longer to come down enough to get herself off of Louis and lie down next to her instead. Her face is all sticky and her eyelashes are clumped together with globs of mascara and eyeliner and her ears are ringing a bit. She thinks she could run a marathon and be less tired than she is right now. "Holy cow," she tells the ceiling. Louis giggles. Harry turns her head and looks at her; she's squirmed up onto the bed and lost her tee somewhere. Harry's eyes follow the lines of her body when she stretches out with a sigh, her joint popping.

"D'you think Zayn will notice something's up with the bedding?" she asks with a smirk.

Harry looks down at herself; most of the mess they've made has ended up on her, but now she's leaving stains of sweat and come and makeup all over the sheets by just lying in them. She shrugs one shoulder, too satisfied and too exhausted to care. The image of Zayn, still groggy and hungover, walking into the room in the morning and finding them like this, lying sideways in his bed, tangled with each other and with random items of clothing everywhere, traces of the night still on them, pops into her head and sends her into a fit of hiccuping laughter that turns into a shuddering moan when she shivers with another aftershock. She curls up on her side still smiling and holds Louis' hand with both of hers.

Louis turns to face her, brushes the hair out of her face with her free hand and runs two fingers gently over her cheek. "Your face is a mess, love," she says.

"I should clean up," Harry sighs. "Take these off while I'm at it," she adds, toeing off her remaining stocking.

"In a mo'," Louis promises. She pulls Harry closer. "Gimme a cuddle first." Harry grins and snuggles in, resting her head against Louis' chest and leaving her fingers tangled with Louis' as she's hugged. She feels heavy and warm, every part of her from her heartbeat to her thoughts getting sluggish, sleepy, slow. She tilts her head up to look at Louis' face, her fond smile and her crinkly eyes.

"Love you," she says.

Louis kisses her forehead. "Love you more," she replies.

(Harry is sincerely doubting that five minutes later when Louis drags her out of bed and into the bathroom, promising her she'll be grateful in the morning. She will, but that's not the point. For right now, she's just grumpy that she had to cut the afterglow-cuddles short and shakily walk all the way across the room while tripping over her skirt as she kicked it off.)

**Author's Note:**

> find me [on tumblr](http://captivekinqs.tumblr.com)


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